So Far Away From Me
by H.J. Bender
Summary: Scott and Alex Summers, brothers separated by childhood tragedy, finally reunite when Alex comes to stay at the X-Mansion. How can they begin to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives? DISCONTINUED
1. Connection

Nobody at Xavier Institute could believe it when Scott Summers came down to breakfast one morning. Late.

Kitty and Evan stared at him over their Pop Tarts and Corn Flakes in astonished silence. Only Kurt seemed to have the ability to speak: "Dude, do you know vhat time it is?"

"Nope." Scott went to the refrigerator and poured a glass of orange juice.

"You're not even dressed," Kitty finally said. "Did you like just wake up or something?"

"I overslept."

"You? Mr Ten O'clock Curfew?" Evan jeered.

"I was up late."

"Doing vhat?" Kurt asked.

"That's none of your business."

The three young mutants seemed relieved; at least his rudeness was still alive and well. It was still a shock that the obsessively-punctual Cyclops should arrive late for school, and still more shocking that he didn't seem to care. Scott's motto was 'On time is late', and he made sure every resident at the Institute adhered to his ideology, even if they didn't agree with it. The others knew he pushed them because he wanted them to succeed, but he didn't have to be such an asshole about it. And he _was_ an asshole, loud and proud.

But ever since the incident with Magneto on Asteroid M and the reunion of Scott with his long lost brother Alexander Masters (now Summers again), the other mutants had noticed slight changes in their usually rigid comrade. Almost as if he were lightening up a bit. Unfortunately for them, the only time when Scott put on his happy face was when he was talking to or about Alex. It was a shame that they were thousands of miles apart, otherwise life would have probably been a lot easier for the young mutants.

"We really need to think about kidnapping Alex and bringing him here," Kitty had grumped on more than one occasion. "I bet Scott would be like sooo much easier to get along with."

"You just want 'im here 'cause you heard he was cute," Rogue (among others) had responded to such comments.

Alex _was_ cute, of course, with his sun-kissed blond hair and surfer's physique, not to mention his cheerful, easygoing nature that was like the day to his moody brother's night. Professor Xavier had mentioned from the beginning that Alex was welcome to join the X-Men. Alex had bashfully declined, saying that he needed time to think about it, but thanked the professor for his hospitality. It had pained Scott to hear that his little brother wouldn't be coming back home with him, but he understood Alex's need for space and the desire to stay with his adoptive parents. And with his newly-emerging mutant powers, meeting his older brother, getting brainwashed and supersized by Magneto all in a matter of days, it was a lot for a sixteen year-old to deal with. So Scott, calming the selfish monster that never wanted to let Alex out of his sight again, respected his decision and returned to Bayville, New York alone.

But the Summers boys had found other ways to make up for lost time; hardly a day went by that they weren't in communication with each other. Alex was as much a web surfer as a wave surfer, and he emailed Scott even if he had nothing important to say. It would always brighten Scott's day to hear how his little brother was doing, what happened at school that day, how good or bad the waves were. Because of the differences in time zones they had to restrict phone calls to the weekends, and that went for live webcam chats as well. The latter was the preferred mode of communication and they cheated on curfew occasionally, especially if something came up that was important. If Scott got an email from Alex that hinted at any sign of distress or angst, he'd stay up until four o'clock in the morning to offer his live, streaming support. And that was exactly what he'd done last night.

Alex had had a bad day at school due largely in part to an incident concerning his mutant powers and accidental damage to school property. He had been sent home; his adoptive parents tried to be sympathetic but it had ended in an argument. Alex had been on the verge of tears as he told his older brother everything. Afterward he had wiped his nose and smiled and said, "I wish you were here with me right now, Scott. I miss you so much."

"I miss you too, little bro," he replied with uncharacteristic sentiment. "I'd be hugging you right now if I could."

They had signed off a few minutes later. Scott had crawled into bed with his clothes on, and hit the snooze button on his alarm when it went off two and a half hours later. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

It was fortunate that Scott Summers had an excuse to wear shades, because he had eyes like a raccoon with plenty of bloodshot to spare. And, if he sat in just the right position, he could totally fall asleep in class. He didn't like doing it, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped.

At the end of what turned out to be one of the longest days in the history of studentkind, Scott drove Kurt, Kitty and Jean back to the Institute that they called home, and promptly fell asleep on the couch with the Bayville Daily Post still held in his hands. He was later woken up by Logan who needed his assistance in the after-school training program for the middle school kids. Scott suited up without complaint and sludged through training until dinner.

After a shower and just before bedtime, he wearily sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.

**YOU HAVE 1 NEW E-MAIL MESSAGE**, said a popup in the taskbar.

He clicked it expectantly. Just as he thought, it was from Alex.

_Scott,_

_thanx for talking with me last nite. i know i probably kept you up way to late but i want you to know how much it meant to me. i'm so lucky to have a brother like you in my life & i hope we can get together in person again sometime soon. i miss you and think about you all the time_

_love u,  
Alex_

_ps. heres something i made just for you. __http :\\hawaiian-surf. com__ \albums \amasters \forscott. mpg _

Scott clicked the link and waited for the file to download. The media player opened it as soon as it was finished. A home movie came up, showing a white sand beach and clear blue tropical waves. A solo electric guitar began to strum out a mellow rhythm. Alex ran out from behind the camera and posed heroically with his surfboard. It looked like an old clip—he couldn't have been a day over fourteen. He smiled and waved and then ran off into the surf. The clip changed, this time to a road sign that read _South Beach, CA_. Looked like the Masters had flown Alex out to a youth surfing competition. He stood beaming in a cheering crowd with the first place trophy.

Scott smiled and rested his chin in his hand, watching his little brother's life unfold.

"_Here I am again in this-a mean old town_," sang the Dire Straits, "_and you're so far away from me. Now where are you, when the sun go down? You're so far away from me._"

Alex at a pool party with his friends. He did a cannonball off of the diving board but scratched his arm on the way down. The next clip was Alex proudly showing off his bloody scratch.

"_You're so far away from me, so far I just can't see. You're so far away from me, you're so far away from me._"

Scott could feel tears coming to his eyes as he watched Alex blow out the candles on his fifteenth birthday cake. It had a shark fin surfacing in the icing and a surfer riding a chocolate wave. Mr Masters laughed and hugged his son while Mrs Masters cut the cake.

"_I'm tired of being in love and being all alone, when you're so far away from me. I'm tired of making out on the telephone, 'cos you're so far away from me_."

Alex holding the camera on himself at the beach, kissing the lens and making silly faces. He looked sunburned and wet, but happy. His hair was getting longer.

"_And I get so tired when I have to explain, when you're so far away from me. Say, you been in the sun and I been in the rain, and you're so far away from me_."

Uh oh. A hospital room. A goofy grinning teenager. Mr Masters showing off a broken surfboard to the camera. Alex showing off a line of stitches on his right calf, then the shark tooth that the doctor had pulled out of his leg.

"_So far away from me, so far away from_ — _you're so faaaaar. You're so far away from me_."

A sixteen year-old Alex on a sunset beach, squinting against the wind, his blond hair blowing. He was smiling and laughing at someone behind the camera. He flashed the gnarly sign—thumb and pinky out, other fingers in—and stuck out his tongue like Gene Simmons.

As the song began to fade, the movie wrapped up its final scene in Alex's bedroom, where he sat at his desk with an inflatable beach ball globe. No doubt this footage had been made since their last chat. He made a show of pointing out Hawaii and then New York state, shaking his head, and tossing the globe over his shoulder. He smirked, kissed his thumb, and pressed it over the eye of the webcam. The picture went black and the movie ended.

Scott sat back from his desk and carefully removed his shades. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and put them back on. Not only did he have the most talented, funny and creative little brother in the world, but also the sweetest. Whatever girl he dates should count herself lucky, because she's never going to find a guy like Alex in a million years.

A sharp pang went through Scott's heart. No girl is good enough for Alex, he thought automatically. Not a girl on this earth. Not even Mother Theresa. Not even Jean.

He hit REPLY on the email but was suddenly overwhelmed with a heavy feeling of tiredness. The sleepless nights were beginning to catch up to him.

_Tomorrow_, he promised, closing the program. But not before he saved the movie in his own personal files. It had already become his favorite.


	2. Emergency

It was four o'clock in the morning when Scott's phone rang on his bedside table. He snapped awake in an instant and slapped his hand down on his alarm clock. Apparently his brain had yet to catch up with his body. A few rings later he finally figured out it was the phone and reached for it without hesitation. Only three people on earth knew his extension at the Institute, and a sixth sense told him who it was the moment he put the phone to his ear.

"Alex?" he said scratchily. Charles Xavier would have been proud.

"Scott," came the weak, cracking voice on the other end. "Get on your computer right now."

"What's wrong?" Scott asked, jumping out of bed and going for his PC. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," replied Alex. He sounded on the verge of tears. "I just really need to talk to you. Something happened today at school and . . . oh God, Scott, I'm in so much trouble-"

"Okay, just hang on, kiddo, I'm starting my computer right now."

"I don't know what to do . . ."

After what seemed like a year, the computer finished booting and Scott's IM program popped up. Alex (sharkbait88) was already online. A few clicks later and the webcams connected, and the halting image of a blond sixteen year-old filled the window. Even though the video feed was grainy and of poor quality, Scott could see that his little brother had been crying. His eyes looked swollen and his skin was blotchy pink.

"What's going on, Alex? What happened to you?"

The younger Summers sniffed wetly and wiped his nose. A flashbulb memory suddenly hit Scott: four years old, sitting and holding his skinned knee while big brother Scotty carefully tied the dirty shoelaces with a triple knot to prevent another nasty tumble on the sidewalk. So long ago . . . it didn't even seem to be real anymore.

"Oh Scott," Alex croaked. "I really screwed up. I screwed up big time."

"I'm sure it's worse than you think," Scott said levelly. "What happened?"

"I don't know where to begin. There's just so much shit I can't even-"

"Alex. Stop right there and take a deep breath. Nice and easy. You're about to hyperventilate and I can't slap the back of your head from way over here."

Alex let a bark of laughter escape. Scott grinned in return. "That's better."

"I haven't smiled all day. You made my face hurt." He swiped his blond bangs from his eyes and held them back. "Scott, they know. They know I'm a mutant."

"Who does?"

"Everyone at my school. The whole town. And I can't even . . . it's such a long story. This dude, Vincent Vandenburg, he's like eighteen and all through middle school he picked on me, and I've known him for years and he's gotten me into so much trouble even though none of it was my fault, he's like this perfect jock and all the teachers love him-"

Scott frowned. He knew the type—Duncan Matthews' kind of crowd.

"-and today at lunch he started picking on me again, nothing new, but then he started talking about how I was in therapy as a little kid. I don't know how he found out, I think 'cause his dad is a doctor or something, but Mom and Dad had sent me to a shrink in California when I was about ten 'cause I kept having nightmares about how our parents died and, and my fear of airplanes—they even had to sedate me on the flight there—and I was getting sick because I couldn't sleep . . . And anyway, Vin started in on me and I just, I just snapped, Scott. I punched him and then his friends jumped me . . . I swear to God I didn't even try to use my powers. They just like, came on all of the sudden. I don't even remember it happening. The next thing I know there's a hole in the cafeteria roof and those six dudes were buried under the rubble. Everyone was screaming and the tables were turned over, and everyone w-was looking at me like I was some kind of demon."

Alex swallowed hard. Tears were forming in his eyes.

"I tried to get away but the principal called the cops and I accidentally blasted a cruiser in the parking lot and injured two cops. I didn't do it on purpose! It's like my hands just couldn't stop! They hurt so bad, and no matter how hard I concentrated, they just wouldn't power down. I ran off campus and hid down at the cove, and my hands seemed to calm down after that. Then the cops showed up with my parents and Vin's dad, everyone accusing me of this and that, and I told them that Vin started it but nobody believed me—they knew I was a mutant, so they put me in handcuffs and drove me down to the station. My parents bailed me outta jail, but now they're afraid of me and think I'm some loose cannon. I tried to explain it to them but we just ended up fighting . . . seems like that's all we do anymore."

Alex took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around himself insecurely. "I wish you were here, Scott. I really need you right now. I . . . I don't know if I can control my powers anymore. I can still feel my hands tingling, like they're ready to flare up any minute. I'm scared, Scott. Please, you've gotta help me."

"Alex, listen to me carefully. I'm going to tell Professor X everything that you've just told me. I'm going to see if I can skip school tomorrow and we'll fly out to Hawaii as soon as we can. It sounds like your powers are becoming too strong for you to handle . . . I guess it runs in the family." He tapped the rim of his shades. "We'll bring you to the Institute and see if we can stabilize your powers. You'll be safe here."

Without warning Alex burst into tears. Scott clenched his teeth and damned the Powers That Be for putting five thousand miles of Planet Earth between him and the only family he had left. It took all of his restraint to keep from slamming his fist down on the keyboard. If only he could just put a hand on his little brother's shoulder; just the slightest touch, something, anything! It was his job to protect and comfort Alex, Dad had said so.

"_Now you keep him safe, Scotty_," said the memory of Dad's warm, rich voice. "_That's your job as big brother_."

"Hang in there, Alex," said present-day Scott. "Just stay put and don't go out. I'm gonna sign off now and go tell the Professor. We'll call and let you know when we'll be there to get you. Okay?"

Alex sniffed and nodded. "O-okay . . . Scott?"

"Yeah?"

His brother's brown eyes seemed to stare at him from out of the screen and straight into Scott's soul. "Thanks."

The older Summers felt his heart swell with love. "Sure," he said with a smile. "What else are brothers for?"


	3. Normal

"Think the Masters'll mind us using their back yard as a landing pad?" Logan asked gruffly as he put down the landing gear on the X-Jet.

"I think the lawn is the last thing on the Masters' minds right now," Xavier answered, "but take care. We want to make this as painless as possible." He turned to see Scott standing anxiously at the exit. "Mr Summers, do take a seat. The riskiest part of flying is during take-offs and landings."

"Tell that to my parents," Scott muttered. After a moment he sighed and returned to his seat. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just wanna get to Alex as fast as I can."

Xavier smiled and leaned over to pat Scott's knee. "You'll get to him soon. Be patient."

"Do you think you'll be able to help him?"

"There's no telling at this point, Scott. We'll just have to wait and see."

The young mutant ran his hand through his hair. It had been nineteen hours since he'd found out about his brother's dilemma, and every minute since then seemed to drag itself out to the fullest. It was worse than being stuck in class on a Friday afternoon at 2:30— it was like being in a kind of hell where time stood still and eternity was a waking nightmare. The flight to Hawaii hadn't been any more tolerable, either. Scott was so filled with anxiety that he spent most of the journey pacing the jet like a jail cell. He'd brought his homework as promised, but even Xavier knew it would be useless to advise him about reading his history assignment.

The jet jarred as it made its descent before landing smoothly on the flat green lawn. Logan cut the engines and undid his seatbelt. "We're here," he grunted. "As if it wasn't obvious."

His caustic humor was lost on Scott, who launched out of his seat and darted to the door. He didn't even wait for the ramp to finish descending before he started down—he jumped the last six feet and sprinted across the grass to the patio. Xavier's wheels were just touching ground when Mr and Mrs Masters came to the back door and gave Scott an awkward hug. The couple looked harried and tired, like most parents during a family emergency. They barely even took notice of the sleek black jet parked in their back yard.

"Thank you for allowing us to show up on such short notice, Mr and Mrs Masters," said Xavier, approaching with a quiet whirr. "I am Professor Charles Xavier. We spoke on the phone earlier. I can assure you that I will do all that is in my power to help your son."

"Thank you for coming, Mr Xavier," said Mrs Masters with a dainty sniff. "I'm Laura and this is my husband Robert. Please, come in, won't you?"

"Thank you, Laura." Xavier went through the patio door, followed closely by Scott. He was dying to ask where his brother was and if he could see him, but he held his tongue and tried to be patient, like what the Professor told him.

The Masters led their guests to a bright, sunny living room and bade them to sit. "I'll let Alex know you're here," Robert told Scott, and went upstairs.

Scott sat on the couch and waited, looking around at the home that his brother had lived in for the past ten years. Every corner of the house seemed infused with Alex's being. Paintings of beaches and tropical fish hung on the walls, marine knickknacks graced the mantle, driftwood carvings sat on the bookshelf, and a large floor tank filled with colorful sea creatures bubbled peacefully between the kitchen and the den. Photos of Alex in various stages of boyhood covered every available surface. Scott reached out and picked up the nearest one: a nine year-old Alex holding a small fish on the end of a hook. Robert was beside him, smiling with fatherly pride.

"He always preferred to swim with the fish rather than catch them," explained Laura Masters as she sat beside Scott. She was smiling fondly. "He loved the sea so much."

"I'm sure he still does," Scott answered firmly, trying to remind her that Alex was not dead. He didn't much care for all the past tense dialog and the mood of mourning; it made it seem as if they were here to collect a body instead of a mutant.

Xavier spoke up. "Laura, if you would be so good as to tell me your side of the matter, I'll certainly-"

Footsteps suddenly pounded upstairs. "Scott?" came Alex's disembodied voice.

Scott sprang up from the couch like he had a string attached to his head. "Alex? Alex, I'm here!" He plowed his way past Mrs Masters as the young blond appeared at the top of the stairs. The two brothers met each other's gaze and froze for half a second, almost unable to believe that after so many nights of pixilated images and broken feeds that they were finally together in the flesh. Then Alex bolted down the stairs and Scott met him halfway. They crashed into each other and very nearly broke ribs from the strength of their embrace. Scott squeaked as he felt the air being squeezed out of him by Alex, who had started weeping again, this time with joy.

"Thank God you're here," he whispered. "I thought I was gonna lose my mind waiting."

"I know. Me too."

Alex buried his face into Scott's shoulder and hugged him even harder. "Take me away from this," came his muffled voice. "Make it go away, Scotty. Make me normal again."

Scott combed his hand through his brother's longish hair. "You _are_ normal, Alex. And pretty soon you're going to be with normal kids just like us. You'll see." He turned and glanced at the Professor, who was staring at him intently over his steepled fingers. "Come on. I'll help you get your things."


	4. Memories

Alex nervously strapped himself into the seat beside his big brother, who gave him an encouraging grin and said, "I guess this'll be the first time we've both been in a plane since . . ."

"Yeah," Alex said softly.

In the cockpit, Logan flipped a few switches and grasped the controls. "Taking off," he announced. "Fasten your seatbelts."

Alex reached down and pulled his lap belt even tighter. Scott couldn't help but smile, though he felt anxious himself; something about being in an aircraft again with his little brother—his last remaining family—seemed like he was inviting disaster, like having all your eggs in one basket. If anything were to happen . . .

_If anything happens we'll deal with it_, thought Scott firmly. _We've got parachutes. We've got powers. This is the damned Blackbird, for crying out loud, not a WWII era vintage airplane. We'll be fine._

"I hope you got your money's worth in therapy," he said with gentle humor. "It's gonna be a long flight."

"I'll be okay," Alex answered, trying to keep his eyes from the windows. "But if we hit any turbulence I may have to ask you to punch my lights out."

"Seriously?"

Alex smirked. "Nah. But, um . . . if I ask you to like, hold my hand or something if I get scared . . . you won't make fun of me or think I'm a sissy, will you?"

"Alex, I'll hold your hand for the next ten hours if it'll make you feel better." To prove his point, he reached over and clasped Alex's hand tightly.

The younger Summers smiled at his big brother and gave his hand a squeeze. "That's a big change from the kid who used to call me Scaredy Cat every time I used to ask Dad to check for monsters under the bed."

"I've grown up a bit since then, Alex." Scott bumped his shoulder against his brother's. "And so have you."

Alex snickered, his nervousness fading as the X-Jet left the land behind and headed out toward the wide blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean.

* * *

When they finally arrived back at the mansion, nearly two days after Scott had first received that urgent phone call, it was late morning on a beautiful sunny Saturday. Though the two brothers had managed to catch a few naps on the return flight, they were both extremely tired, physically and emotionally.

As they disembarked from the jet, Professor Xavier said to Alex, "We have much to discuss about your temporary stay here at the Institute, but that can wait until after you've rested. We have a few small guest rooms available for visitors, but if you'd like to be in the student wing I can arrange for—"

"He can stay in my room," Scott interrupted. "I know it's a not a double suite, but I could drag in a spare twin or a couch or something and—"

"I brought my sleeping bag," Alex offered. "How long has it been since we've had an indoor camping trip, Scotty?"

Scott beamed so brightly it was almost as if he had taken off his shades. "Man, I remember those! We'd get a couple chairs and throw a big blanket over them and stay up all night scaring ourselves to death with ghost stories-"

"You scared _me_ most of the time, though."

"-and we'd make popcorn and read those sick horror books I checked out at the library—"

Xavier held up his hand with a laugh. "Okay, that's enough, you two. I can see that you're both eager to pick up where you left off, but we can't forget our priorities, namely school. Alex, I will call the principal of Bayville High and see if I can't get your current credits transferred. There are only a few months remaining in the school year, and I don't see why you can't finish them here. Does this sound like a good option to you?"

Alex glanced at his brother and nodded. "It sure does."

"Then I'll do what I can to make it happen. You just get settled in—I assume you've decided where you'll be staying—and try to get some rest. You've had a very stressful two days and would probably benefit from a few hours' sleep."

"Thanks, Professor," Alex said gratefully. "I mean, you've done so much for me, I . . . it really means a lot."

Xavier nodded. "Of course, Alex. There will always be a place for you here."

Scott helped Alex with his bag and together they headed out of the hangar. _Wait a moment, Scott_, came the Professor's telepathic transmission; the young man hung back for a second as Xavier came closer.

"When Alex is feeling better I'd like to get him acquainted with the other residents," he said in a quiet voice. "He is removed from his schoolmates and foster parents, and I think it's important that we establish bonds of trust and friendship as soon as possible. With such a traumatic event involving his mutant abilities, I fear it could have the potential of damaging him forever. We need to show him that we are here for him and that there is no shame in being a mutant."

Scott nodded. "I understand. Don't worry, Professor. I'll do my best to make sure Alex feels at home here."

"I know you will," Xavier smiled.

"Scott!" Alex called. "You comin'? I don't know my way around here!"

"All right, Small Fry, hold on!"

The Professor watched Scott jog to his little brother's side, rubbing his jaw meditatively. Logan approached from behind. "Somethin' wrong, Charles?" he rumbled.

"No," he replied. _At least I hope there won't be . . ._

* * *

"Nice room," Alex commented as he looked around. "It's a bit plain though, don'tcha think?" He dropped his bag on the floor and invited himself to the bed, dropping down onto it was a sigh and stretching out. "What happened to all your G.I. Joes and your Van Halen posters? I remember Mom use to get onto you about them—she said they were too loud for little kids."

"I didn't know my little brother was actually a _sponge_," Scott teased, pulling up the rolling desk chair and sitting in it backwards. "If I'd known you were gonna hang onto every word any of us said, I would have watched my language around you."

Alex's smile faded and he looked away. "When all you've got is memories of the people you love, you spend your whole life trying to preserve them."

Scott crossed his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on them. "What else do you remember?"

The younger Summers smiled and stared at the ceiling. "I remember that green dinosaur shirt you had, the one with the stegosaurus and the T-rex. It was like your favorite shirt. You wore it to bed and to school and you only took it off to wash it. You had so many dinosaurs, too. Whenever we played dinosaurs you always made me be the leaf eaters and kept all the meat eaters for yourself. You jerk."

Alex and Scott shared a chuckle.

"I remember standing at the sink with you and brushing our teeth before bedtime," he went on. "We'd pretend we had rabies and see who could get the most foam around their mouth. I remember when Dad used to make pancakes for breakfast every Saturday morning, and we'd have our plates swimming in syrup. I remember Mom sitting in her chair by the window, reading or knitting . . . Remember that sweater she knitted you, that ugly yellow thing? You looked so sad in it that she laughed and took it off of you."

"You're amazing." Scott shook his head, grinning with disbelief. "How do you remember all this?"

"How can you _not_?"

The question took Scott by surprise. "I . . . I don't know. I guess we both had different ways of dealing with our past. You fought to remember everything while I . . . I tried to forget it." He hung his head. "I tried so hard to forget those memories because all they did was bring me pain. So I shut them out. I didn't wanna remember all that I had lost. I gave up on so many things . . ."

"It shows," said Alex, sitting up and looking around the sterile room. "I guess you don't remember that awesome Lego collection you had, either?"

Scott shook his head.

"Man," the blond sighed, "how do you _live_? Do you have any hobbies at all? What about music? What's your favorite band?"

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but found to his horror that he had nothing to say. It came to him suddenly: he was a ghost trapped in the mortal world, a shell of a human being whose life had been destroyed in a plane crash that stole everything he had ever loved. Only now when one of those lost, precious lives had returned to him could he finally step back and examine his own life . . . and find that it was utterly empty. Scott Summers, he realized, had been dead for the past ten years.

He raised his head to look at Alex.

And now he was suddenly brought back to life. The only question was: what happens now?


	5. Friends

Scott woke up in an awkward position lying backwards in his bed; on the opposite end Alex was curled up on his side with the only pillow, sleeping like a baby. He had about 70 percent of the small bed all to himself while Scott, easily six inches and twenty-five pounds heavier than his little brother, had the remaining 30 percent. It was definitely not enough.

The older Summers sat up with a stretch and looked out the window. The sky was deepening its colors as sunset approached. How long had they been asleep? It looked like it might be dinner time by now. His stomach agreed, rumbling a reminder that he hadn't eaten anything decent for the past two days. Dinner sounded great.

At the head of the bed Alex grunted and rolled over onto his back.

"You awake?" Scott asked.

"I am now," he mumbled. "What time is it?"

"Not sure. Dinner time, I guess."

"Awesome. I'm starvin'."

"Yeah, me too. C'mon, let's go downstairs and see what everyone's up to." Scott suddenly winced. "Aw _man_, I forgot to introduce you to everyone. And give you a tour of the house, and-"

"Scott, it's okay," Alex laughed, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I just got here today. You can show me the house anytime, and I'm sure I'll meet everyone eventually. Don't sweat it, bro."

"I know, but I promised the Professor I'd do my best to look after you and-"

"And you _are_," Alex said. "Trust me. I feel better already, just being away from . . . all that." His grin faded as he remembered the events that had brought him to where he was. A black cloud seemed to settle over him and start raining. Scott leaned over and wrapped his arm around Alex's shoulders.

"You're gonna like it here," he said gently. "Everyone is really friendly and easy to get along with . . . uh, except Rogue, it takes a while to win her over, and Logan's a bit rough on the outside, but I don't think you'll have a problem fitting in. You seem good at making friends."

"And you're not?"

"Well, I . . . I guess people usually get the wrong impression about me. I'm one of the student leaders around here, so I've got this authority figure image to uphold. You know, leadership and responsibility and making sure everyone obeys the rules, that type of thing."

"Oh. So you're the head asshole in this place, huh."

"Pretty much."

Alex snickered. "Man, am I glad I'm on _your_ side."

"Don't think I'm gonna go easy on you 'cause we're family!" Scott caught his little brother in a half nelson and proceeded to give him a light-hearted noogie. Alex squealed and wrestled out of the hold.

Just then a knock at the door diverted their attention. "Scott? You in dere? Are you coming to dinner or vhat?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there!" He turned to Alex. "That's Kurt. You met him on Asteroid M, but I don't think you were ever introduced. Come on, let's not keep dinner waiting."

* * *

Alex took to Kurt Wagner like a house afire. The two of them were talking hair styling tips and favorite pizza toppings within two minutes. Scott knew that his brother's risk-taking nature and Kurt's penchant for mischief would get them into plenty of typical teenage trouble.

The trio made their way downstairs and into the dining room, where dinner sat waiting buffet-style on a side table. The room was bustling with young mutants eager to dive into the hamburger casserole that was the homemade specialty of the mansion's chef, Mr Marcus. Scott handed Alex a plate and they served up, making a few hasty introductions when the students saw a new face among them. A few of them, like Bobby and Evan, hadn't yet met Alex but quickly made connections, especially with Bobby's love of computers and Evan's skateboarding passion. "Dude, so you're an urban surfer!" Alex cracked, making Evan laugh out loud.

Scott backed down and gave Alex room to acquaint himself with the others. He did it effortlessly, and was warmly received by the other teens whom he had already met, such as Kitty and Jean. Kitty, eyebrow-deep in the boy-crush phase of adolescence, was positively smitten with the handsome surfer and didn't open her mouth for a full five minutes. (A new record!) While the two shamelessly flirted at the table, Scott sat down beside Jean.

"Your brother's a real charmer," the red head commented with a sly grin. "If I were you I'd keep my eye on him."

"Ah, don't worry. He's harmless."

"Not that—I mean watch him to make sure he doesn't get kidnapped by one of the girls," Jean laughed. "He's really a hit with everyone, isn't he?"

Scott dug into his casserole with a grin. "It's hard not to love a guy like Alex. He makes it easy."

Jean smiled secretively and cozied up against Scott's arm. It was so nice to see him happy again. She'd almost forgotten what his smile looked like these past few weeks.

At the far end of the table, Rogue sat at the corner with her nose in a collection of Irish Horror Stories and purposely ignored the hubbub concerning Alex Masters. Despite being a self-declared loner, she wasn't blind—her eyes appeared over the top of her book a few times to catch quick, discreet glances at the newcomer, who was, disparagingly enough, perfect and good-looking and wonderful and all of the disgusting traits she loathed. She muttered to herself and tried to hide even more of herself behind her book.

Dinner progressed with the usual damage—slopped sauce, spilled drinks, Parmesan cheese snow—amidst a noisy cafeteria atmosphere that seemed to follow high schoolers around wherever they went. Alex found himself relaxing comfortably within this new network of friends. They all seemed completely normal, and an outside observer would not have been able to tell that they were mutants at all. It filled Alex with courage and hope to see other kids with the same worries and problems and interests as he. Maybe being at this institute wasn't such a bad idea after all.

As the meal came to a close and the diners piled up their dirty plates onto the trolley, Xavier entered the room with a quiet whir and smiled when he saw Alex chatting enthusiastically with the other teens. He rolled his wheelchair over to Scott, who was just rising from his seat.

"I don't want to interrupt your brother's progress," he said with a smile. "When you two are finished I'd like to see both of you in the uniform lab. I've spoken with Hank and he believes that he may have a solution to Alex's dilemma."

* * *

Dr Hank "Beast" McCoy was an impressive sight to Alex, who had never seen a truly zoomorphic-type of mutant aside from Nightcrawler, and he wasn't really too wild-looking anyway. The sight of the hulking, furry cobalt creature in the laboratory shocked Alex at first and he grabbed hold of Scott's arm, just in case.

"Don't worry," Hank said, baring his gigantic incisors in a kind grin. "I'm all bark and no bite."

"Hank, this is Alex Summers," Xavier introduced. "Scott's little brother."

"Of course. I'm Dr Hank McCoy. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Summers." He extended a large clawed hand and the blond shook it, grinning when he realized that this mutant, while looking somewhat like a huge tiger/gorilla, spoke like an educated gentleman. "The Professor has told me much about you, Alex. It seems that the same type of powers run in your family."

"I guess you could say that," Alex replied, staring glumly down at his hands. "They first started hurting about a year ago, but it wasn't until that Magneto dude showed up that my powers first emerged."

He and Hank began to walk through the lab, Scott and Professor Xavier following at a short distance. The uniform lab was where the high-tech suits worn by the X-Men were developed, tested and built specially according to each mutant's abilities or physiques. Whether it was fire-resistant fabrics or image-inducing devices, all of the garments and accessories used by the X-Men were engineered in this very place.

"I understand that you and your brother possess the same highly-concentrated energy beam," Hank said, stopping at one of the accessory stations. "It's a very rare gift, one that has given Xavier and the outfitters here at the Institute a real headache trying to combat. The only thing capable of counterbalancing such a destructive energy discharge is ruby quartz." Hank held up a chunk of an uncut crimson rock in his large hand. It gleamed in the fluorescent lights, shining over every facet. "This is the same material that helps your brother keep his optic beams under control."

Alex turned to Scott, who nodded in confirmation. "When the Professor found me after the first incident with my powers, I think I destroyed every type of metal, rock and synthetic material until we found the right one." He sighed shortly. "Thank God for that rock, otherwise my life would be a living hell."

Alex turned back to Dr McCoy. "So . . . do you think this stuff can help me, too?"

Hank smiled. "I can almost guarantee it." He put down the quartz and picked up a pair of black tactical gloves. "Here, try these on."

Alex took the gloves from the helpful doctor and slipped them on. They were made of a thin, flexible, breathable fabric that he'd never felt before, tough like leather but smooth like silk. He flexed his hands. Gripping material on the palms. Complete mobility. No loss of dexterity. It was almost like having a second skin.

"How do they fit? Are they too large?" Hank took Alex's small hands in his gigantic furry ones and turned them over, inspecting the fit.

"I think the thumb could use a little more space here," said Alex. "And maybe the pinky is too long."

McCoy nodded, mentally calculating. "Very good, very good. A few minor adjustments should be all. Okay, you can take them off now."

"That's it? Are those the gloves I'm gonna have to wear forever?"

"Not forever," Xavier spoke up. "Just until you learn to control your powers. Our training here at the Institute will help you with that. Jean Grey is the student instructor who teaches young mutants with new powers how to master them."

Alex glanced over at his brother sadly. "But what if my powers end up like Scott's? I don't wanna be unable to touch someone without hurting 'em. I mean, I know Scott has it worse, but . . . it just doesn't seem fair. For either of us." His shoulders slumped.

"Don't be so gloomy!" Hank laughed. "With enough time and patience and training Scott might one day be able to take off his glasses and see the world through his own eyes again."

Alex hung his head and gazed down at his lethal hands. "It seems so much easier the way Magneto did it."

Hank and Xavier fell silent; yes, Magneto's method of catalyzing mutant evolution may have been easier. But it was unethical and destructive to one's mind, heart and soul. There could be no other way than to endure, persevere, and overcome. And the hardest road is often the only one that ends in true happiness.

Scott put a hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Hey. It's gonna be okay. Just like Dr McCoy says, one day we may both be able to live without these devices holding us back."

"That's the spirit, Scott," McCoy said proudly. "And the sooner we get those quartz inserts put into these gloves, the sooner you can start working toward that goal!"

Alex looked up with a weary smile. "Thank you, Dr McCoy."

The Beast beamed warmly. "It's my pleasure, Mr Summers."


	6. Stars

The night was deepening by the time Scott and Alex returned from the subterranean lab and to the comfort of the X-Mansion. Alex, who had been so lively during dinner, now seemed sullen and depressed. Scott knew that his little brother was worried about his powers and the impact that keeping them restrained might have on his life. He knew all too well. Who could understand Scott's optic powers enough to see that it didn't define who he was? Who could see these ruby quarts shades as something other than a handicap, or a lock on a gun safe? Who could ever embrace him as someone other than a mutant? Scott was not ashamed of being a mutant—but he didn't want that to be the first word used to describe him. Isn't that what all mutants wanted? To be viewed as normal people?

"C'mere," said Scott, taking Alex by the elbow. "I wanna show you something."

* * *

A glittering blanket of stars covered the deep velvet sky, white diamonds watching the universe with unblinking eyes. They reflected in the still, glassy water of the pool down below, mirrored back with crystal clarity. Like a door to a whole other sky in a whole other world.

Alex, wearing short sleeves and cargo shorts, wrapped his arms around himself and exhaled a white mist. "It's cold here."

"It'll get warmer," Scott assured, standing out on the broad dais of the back patio. He craned his neck up at the stars, his hands in his pockets, his world an unchanging shade of ruby red. "What I like best about being so far from the city is being able to see the stars."

Alex turned his face upward to look. "Yeah, there sure are a lot. It's usually so humid in Hawaii that you really only see 'em in winter." He breathed out heavily, watching his breath with interest. "Reminds me of Before."

"Yeah," said Scott. Before the plane. Before the pain. "People are like stars, Alex. Some are bright, some are dim. Some cluster together in little groups and some stand out on their own. The ones on their own, those are the ones that shine the brightest."

Alex smiled. "But they're still alone."

"Maybe. But they are the ones that humanity has seen night after night for thousands of years, the ones that have been written down and given names out of all the billions and billions of other stars. They are the ones that mankind has remembered and will always remember. They are the ones that guide and inspire, the ones that form the constellations that tell us stories about our past.

"We are stars, Alex. It's lonely up there by ourselves, set apart from the other stars, but we can face it. Being mutants, we shine to show the way to others, to guide them and protect the world they live in. We are here to help them understand and set examples for the other stars, and maybe one day they'll shine as brightly as we do. And then none of us, mutant or human, will ever be alone again."

Silence fell and the two brothers stared up at the sky, two small motes of life adrift in a sea with no shores. When Alex turned to Scott, his face was wet with tears. "But all stars die one day," he said in a hoarse voice.

Scott reached down and grasped his brother's hand. "Yes. And new stars will take their place. There is no such thing as total darkness, just like there's no such thing as a night without stars. Even if you can't see them, you know they're there, watching over us."

Alex sniffed and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I think I'm homesick," he muttered.

Scott took Alex by the shoulder and guided him back inside. "Yeah," he said. "Me, too."

* * *

Kurt was a bit worried when Scott didn't answer the knock on his bedroom door the next morning. He knocked again, louder this time, but there was still no response. "Hey, wake up!" he called. "You're going to miss break_früh_—er, breakfast!" After no reply, he felt obligated to investigate and opened the door.

Scott was not in bed. Nor was anything else—it had been completely stripped, mattress and everything. Only the bare frame remained, a comical wooden skeleton. A new structure now occupied the space between the foot of the bed and the desk: a fort made out of blankets. Kurt stood in the doorway and cocked his head. "_Was zum Teufel_ . . .?" A mattress edge and somebody's bare feet poked out from the cloth wall.

Kurt sauntered over and leaned down, pulling up the edge of the blanket.

The Summers brothers had apparently been up to their old tricks again. Empty cocoa cups, a bowl of stale popcorn remnants and a rapidly-dying flashlight spoke of a long night spent catching up with the good old days. Kurt grinned lopsidedly at Scott and Alex sprawled awkwardly over the too-small mattress. It was a most un-elegant position for the commanding X-Men leader to be seen sleeping on the floor in his boxer shorts, with cocoa stains on the front of his shirt. Kurt giggled and covered his mouth, dropping the blanket. He stood up and tiptoed from the room.

He wasn't being courteous—he was going to get his camera.

* * *

"Oversleeping _again_? You're really getting into a bad habit, Scott."

"Evan, mind your own business, would you?"

"Sorr-_ry_. Guess somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

Scott rubbed his sore neck. "Or the floor," he muttered under his breath. Alex breezed right past him, apparently rested and refreshed and ready for a new day.

"Hey, Evan!" he greeted cheerily. "What's up?"

"Not much," the skater commented. "You guys missed breakfast, though. And it was really good, too."

"Great," Scott muttered. "Looks like it's cereal and toast for us, bro."

"Ya got any oranges?" Alex asked, browsing through the pantry. "I'm like dyin' for an orange or a grapefruit or something."

"Think we have some in the fridge."

As the brothers went about collecting breakfast at eleven o'clock in the morning, most of the residents had already started their days and were out and about at the X-Mansion, organizing baseball games or washing the vehicles (punishment for some), or coordinating trips to the mall. Sunday was the one day of the week free from training, chores and maintenance, allowing the kids to do whatever they wished. The house was fairly quiet and unoccupied, and it wasn't unusual if it stayed like that until bedtime.

Evan finished off his milk and picked up his board. "Well, I'd love to hang out but the half-pipes are callin'. Later, dudes!"

"See ya, Evan!" Alex waved, mouth full of orange. He turned to Scott. "Well, looks like we're on our own again. Anything planned for today, big bro?"

"I dunno," Scott answered, pouring the cold dregs from the coffeepot into his cup and popping it in the microwave. "I guess we'll stop by the lab and see if those gloves will be ready in time for school tomorrow."

"Oh, right. School."

"Cheer up, it's not so bad. I've got my license so I'll drive you, and I'll show you around the-"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Alex shrugged vaguely. "I dunno. Something about trying to start over. It's always hard."

"Hey, don't worry. I'm here to help you, remember?"

Alex nodded like a kid being lectured to by his parent and played with the orange peel.

Scott sat down at the bar next to his brother. "Hey, wasn't it a riot last night?" he asked with an encouraging nudge.

"Yeah," Alex smirked. "But your ghost stories sucked."

Scott grimaced. "You're a harsh critic, Alley. I'm no good at telling stories, you know that."

"Yeah, but come _on_. The babysitter and the serial killer story? That one's been around more times than the flu."

"I'm trying!"

"Well try harder. Or maybe borrow some of those horror books from Rogue. I saw her reading one at dinner last night."

"She was at dinner last night?"

"Yeah. She sat at the end of the table and ignored everybody. How could you miss her? She wasn't wearing camo or anything."

Scott shrugged. "She's just so quiet most of the time. I guess I've stopped noticing her." He paused, a grin forming on his lips. "But _you_ noticed her. Why, do you like her or something?"

Alex smiled bashfully. "She's kinda pretty. In a Dracula sorta way. I bet if she took off some of that black makeup and put on some Daisy Dukes, she'd be knocking guys out."

"Rogue has to keep her skin covered. It's because of her powers."

"Really?"

Scott took a bite of toast. "She absorpff the life forff of anyfing she touffef wiff her skin." He swallowed. "Touch her for a minute and you're-" He glanced at his breakfast. "-well, toast."

"Really? Aw, dude. That must suck big time." Alex slumped. "So she can't ever, like . . .?"

"No."

"_Dude_. That poor chick. Is that why she's all distant and cold and stuff?"

"I suppose."

Alex ran a hand through his blond bangs. "Jeez. Not being able to touch another person without killing 'em . . . who'd wanna live a life like that? Life is all about hugs and kisses and . . . and all that touchy stuff, y'know?"

"She seems to deal with it well enough."

"It must be hard on her. God, what a bogus power. It really is more of a curse, isn't it? I'm so glad I didn't end up with something totally messed up like that."

"Hope y'all 're done talkin, 'cause I would just _hate_ to interrupt."

Scott and Alex both jumped in their seats and turned to see Rogue, dressed from head to toe in black, glaring at them with narrow green eyes. Neither of them had heard her come in, nor did they know how long she had been standing there. She reached between the stunned young men and plucked an apple from the bowl on the counter. She met Alex's wide-eyed gaze and curled her lip. "Guess we don't all got it as good as some. Ain't that right, _yer Highness_?" And before he could reply, she had whipped around and left the kitchen.

Alex released a huge sigh. Partly relief, partly guilt. "Damn. So much for a good impression, huh?"

"Don't worry about it," Scott said with a wave of his hand. "Rogue doesn't play favorites. She hates everyone equally."

Alex looked over his shoulder in the direction she had gone. "She really _is_ a star, isn't she?"

The smile faded from Scott's face, replaced by a more somber expression. "The brightest, loneliest one of all."


End file.
